


blue from the tv light

by shslduelist (joeri)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Drabble, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lowercase, M/M, Touching, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeri/pseuds/shslduelist
Summary: two bodies intertwined.note: fic contains no sexual content whatsoever and only alludes to teens experimenting/fooling around in the past





	blue from the tv light

their lips let go. when yusaku rolls his hips (less like he’s seen takeru do and more like waves crashing to shore— _shivering, rickety_ —) he feels a pertinent emptiness against takeru’s muscles. it’s a promised lack of pressure that he’s never gotten acquainted with. it’s a hollow in his throat that remains no matter how many apple seeds he swallows down. it’s the expectancy yusaku can see in takeru’s hazy eyes, no longer glowing with the electric beams of the candy-neon cyberspace they call their bed more often than not. takeru’s hands fixate on the hem of yusaku’s button-up, turning the fabric over his fingers again and again. it’s purposeful and repetitive: _impatience._

mouths meet in such terrifyingly gentle ways— each of them letting the lightning beneath their skin fizzle and crackle against one another just enough to scare them off, and then reaching out for more. every pore of takeru’s body feels like a novelty plasma ball lamp, and every press of yusaku’s palms against his sides has him worried… fearful things are edging toward where he can’t go.

takeru huffs out his name, because it’s so easy on his tongue when nothing else is, and he asks, “what’s wrong?”

yusaku drops backward onto the bed.

the air conditioning does its best to cool the air between two complicated teens, busying their hands and thinking they know anything at all about what they’re doing. but yusaku lives in a rather shitty flat, and yusaku’s never been hot enough under the collar to care until now. and takeru’s gazing back at him with such doe-eyed innocence, half-lidded and coy— _too_ coy for being as forward and frank as he is with his _advances._ too coy at all for how helpful he is.

the glare from the muted television reflects off of takeru’s sort of smug face and yusaku wants to kiss him again. but he can’t.

yusaku’s hands rest in his lap: school uniform still on and a frustration in his fingers. his joints tremble. takeru sits up on a single elbow while his other hand does what it’s been best at: taking yusaku’s from out of the dark. he almost sounds contrite when he goes, “are you sleepy?”

“i just remembered, kusanagi-san needs me to help out with café nagi tomorrow.”

with a voice so inscrutable, yusaku gets away with a lot. to some, he’s nigh undecipherable. but takeru squeezes the knuckles of yusaku’s hand and pulls them close, intertwining them with his own. yusaku regards the gesture with vacancy. takeru smiles small.

“you’re never comfortable outside of link vrains.”

a lull drapes over the both of them. it’s a silent affirmation. yusaku isn’t one for theatrics or embarrassment but he feels his head hang a smidge further down his neck.

“it feels incorrect,” he levels with his friend (if that’s what you could still call the two of them). “i’m in the right skin when i’m in the link vrains. outside of it, i don’t know that i can make myself… behave the same.”

the words slur, not from inebriation but anxiety.

“this body isn’t the one that i want.”

each one of yusaku’s wrists lie inside of takeru’s fists. he pulls yusaku forward (because for all that yusaku’s done for him, this… this he can help him with) and he finds a voice no one’s ever heard before. it goes like this: “this body is the one that _i_ want.”

_no computer code. no hacking into red light districts. no pretending, _takeru doesn’t say.__

____

____

_your flesh and blood._

a jingling melody of chills run the gamut of yusaku’s spine. impassive, his breath catches and he tries to gauge honesty from how many times takeru’s eyes dart from his face to his lips, then to his arms, and then his lips, and then to his stomach and back again to his lips. and yusaku asks, suddenly so hoarsely, “how much?”

takeru pours the honey on thick, sounding as sure and sly as a sixteen year old can when he’s half blind in the dark with his best friend and a cspan broadcast substitute. which isn’t much at all but yusaku is charmed.

“a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> trans headcanons mean a lot to me. silly kids are silly.


End file.
